CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
At 10.00pm, Georgie had left a message for Franklin. Pissed off. Where are you? Can’t you at least phone? I’ve got crucial information.
She’d tried him again at midnight. Hung up on his voicemail. Nerves thrumming. Thinking, Has something happened to you, Jack? Dwelling on his behaviour in the past days, she made a leap to, Have you done something to yourself?
Her next attempt came at 1.30am and bombed, annoying and worrying her in equal measure.
Bone tired, she willed her mind to switch off. Denied just a short while of nothingness when her imagination filled with visions. Of the horror at the Murray farm. Sam’s burns. Franklin’s reaction. The bodies in the burnt ruins.
By 2.30am, Georgie was battling anger, fear and a desperate need for action. She considered call
